THE "GIRLS?" AT 15 WEEKS

What can I say? Although time is an invention of history buffs and hope fiends, I have little doubt about the natural existence of constant change as evidenced by the six growing chickens I've been observing to be different every cycle of the sun. In none of those days were they the same nor did they exhibit any characteristics of being roosters; No comb, no spur, no exotic colors in their tails. In the consistanly 100-105°F temperatures these days, I've taken to misting them from the garden hose around 3pm when they're panting for air. These guys are at the midway point between three and four months old and could begin laying eggs any day now — they even cluck now instead of peep.

I am so enamored of them and the whole process of caring for them by hauling the rolling Hank's Hennery to new grassy pastures every couple of weeks that I am building a section on my website exclusively for my babies. Below is my preliminary intro to it.

If I can't say something good about my summer garden, I shan't say anything at all — which is all I am going to say about that. How 'bout those chickens?

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Time is required for language to tell the story of the experiences contained within the immesurable minuteness of the instant of now. We observe it all and admit only that which we can tell ourselves about.

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I want to mention that the music to the video is by Deep Forest's album, Boheme, and to recommend watching their uplifting video, Sweet Lullabye.